It Was a Summer Night
by notfriendswithyou
Summary: "Better tell your friends that 'People's choice' boy." Enjolras wanted to kiss him and rip out his throat at the same time. He wanted to fire back at Grantaire, remind him that he had found his passed out body behind a bar, but he figured that was rude, so he compromised. "Anyway, boy I found passed out behind a bar.."
1. Chapter 1

It was a summer night, far too hot and humid to be comfortable. So they lay on top of the bed covers and let the breeze from the window cool them. He looked so pure and peaceful, even in cut-offs and a borrowed t-shirt. His eyes were closed and his abstract black curls fell like a waterfall down the pillow. And Enjolras wondered if he could stop time and live in that moment forever.

But that's not how real life works, because his eyes were tightly shut in pain, the borrowed shirt masked broken ribs. Even the selective light from the window reflected off broken glass lodged in his bloody, disgusting, mess of a leg. And he was on Enjolras' bed because he had carried the other man's unconscious body there and he hadn't woken up yet.

Just as Enjolras was wondering how he was going to explain all this to the man, and possibly law officers, the other man woke up. Enjolras decided foolishly to not say anything and hope the man didn't notice Enjolras lying beside him. That plan failed. The man turned his head and his confused, bloodshot eyes locked right on Enjolras.

"I can explain, just give me a minute." He did not give him a minute.

"Who the fuck are you, where the hell am I, and why are you shirtless?" Enjolras had forgotten the fact he had taken his shirt off.

"It's really hot." He answered honestly.

"I'm Enjolras by the way."

"Grantaire." The man responded, even in his rough shape Enjolras still found him attractive.

"Pleasure to meet you." Grantiare added sarcastically. Maybe this entire situation wasn't going to be as horrible as Enjolras had imagined. he decided to just confess everything he knew and hoped Granitare would fill in the gaps

"So what happened, was I found you knocked out behind the Musain, and you were pretty beat up, so I carried you to my place." Enjolras motioned to his apartment.

"Oh and your wearing my shirt- not the one I had on today- because there was blood everywhere and I'm sort of squeamish." He added with a really pathetic smile. Grantaire actually laughed a little, the whole situation was a little messed up anyway. He was lying face to face next to a virtual stranger, shirtless, on his bed and neither of them moved. Grantaire was likely unable, and Enjolras was far too unwilling.

"Okay," Grantiare sighed. "So I just started working there like a week ago, I bartend. And these two guys think they're so cool that they deserve free drinks, but they were total assholes, so I kept telling them no. Then after my shift, I was walking home and they ambushed me! And then I guess I blacked out." Grantaire obviously had trouble remembering, he was still pretty out of it.

"Looks like they threw a wine bottle at your leg." Grantiare sat up, which was even painful to watch, and took a long look at his leg.

"That's as gross as it is painful." Then he turned to Enjolras.

"I recognize you from somewhere." and after several seconds of staring added "Oh yeah, you came in with all your friends once, and you ended up screaming at them and I kicked you out."

"Wait what."

"I kicked you out for yelling too loud, you were standing on a table. You really don't remember this?"

"Are you serious."

"Dead serious." Enjolras remembered now, it was right after he lost in the final round of the debate tournament.

"I apologize, I was very upset that night." Grantaire smirked. How could you be this hurt and still be charming, this was beyond Enjolras.

"Upset or wasted?" Oh my god, he was actually enjoying this, what a bastard.

"I said, I apologize."

"Better tell your friends that 'People's choice' boy." Enjolras wanted to kiss him and rip out his throat at the same time. He wanted to fire back at Grantaire, remind him that he had found his passed out body behind a bar, but he figured that was rude, so he compromised.

"Anyway, boy I found passed out behind a bar, I have a friend who's a doctor, Combeferre, he'll be here in the morning. Don't try to run away."

"No problem, Apollo." Grantaire reached out with a shaky hand and patted Enjolras' golden curls. Enjolras was overcome with emotions, he hated this man, he should have left him behind the Musain. Other the other hand he was the most entertaining converstaion he'd had in a while.

"I'm going to sleep, because this is _my _bed by the way." Enjolras countered.

"You put me here." Dang it, that was true. Grantiare had won this round, but Enjolras still fell asleep smiling.

And he awoke to gunshots.


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras shot up to find himself alone and Grantaire no where in sight. He started to call Grantaire's name, but then he saw it. On the wall opposite the bed, there was a gang sign, painted in blood. It oozed down onto the floor, fresh. He searched desperately around the room for signs of what had happened, where Grantaire was, anything. It had to be his blood, right? His mind was racing, there was no logical way to handle this. What if the killer was still in his apartment? And Grantaire was being held hostage? What if-

None of his assumptions were true. Enjolras found him in the doorway, on the floor, lifeless. A sad whimper left his mouth as he fell to his knees next to Grantiare, and shook him violently for any sign of life. Then the doorbell rang, it was Combeferre.

Combeferre did CPR. Enjolras just sat, unable to function, because this entire situation was unreal. Suddenly, Grantiare opened his eyes and stared at Enjolras, the same way he had stared when he first woke up next to him. Grantiare opened his mouth, but what could he possible say? Thank you, Enjolras? Sorry for getting blood on your wall? I love you? Whatever the words, they would be fresh in Enjolras' mind. They would haunt him, forever. But all that came out of Grantaire's mouth was blood. Then his eyes shut tight in pain as he gasped for air. And Combeferre stepped away and walked out of the room.

"WHAT THE HELL, MAN? SAVE HIM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Enjolras screamed, completely aware that his harsh voice hurt Combeferre. He cradled Grantiare's head was cradled in his hands.

"I can't." Combeferre answered.

"There's too much damage, internal bleeding, gunshot wounds, he's just too far gone." Then Combeferre walked slowly out the door, closing it on the way out.

As he gasped for breath, Enjolras said the only thing that had been on his mind since he met Grantaire.

"You lied. You don't work at the bar! You're in a gang! You sell drugs! The shaky hands, the bloodshot eyes, all of it. And whoever broke into my house-" And then it all came together.

"Is this all just a drug deal gone wrong!? YOU LIAR!" But Grantiare didn't hear him.

He was gone.

Four gunshot wounds to the stomach, deep knife wounds in addition to his mutilated leg, broken ribs and black eyes, and Enjolras still found him handsome. Even after he had lied straight to his face. He sat up against the wall and a tear fell from his eye.

"YOU LIED TO ME! AFTER I PICKED YOUR ASS OFF THE CURB AND GAVE TO SOMEWHERE TO STAY!" Dead men don't respond when you talk to them, no matter how loud you scream.

"YOU LIAR!" Enjolras wasn't crying anymore, he was angry. Angry at Grantiare for deceiving him, mad at himself for believing a man he found unconscious behind a bar could be anything but a dealer.

"AND TO THINK-" he paused, then he leaned in and whispered to him, the way you tell innocent secrets as a child.

"and to think that I was in love with you."


End file.
